An Honest Smile
by The Original Oxymoron
Summary: When Miyuki arranges a surprise meeting between Canaan and a combat Realian named Alex, friendship ensues. Or perhaps something more.


[An Honest Smile]

A Xenosaga oneshot by The Original Oxymoron.

Requested by SyberiaWinx

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Author's Notes:

Hello all. This fan fiction is for Syberia, who won four guess a characters in a row at Godsibb-dot-net. The fan fiction is about Canaan, and a combat Realian named Alex. He gets his name from the DS version of the games, but he is assumed to be the same Realian who helped Shion and stood up to Virgil in episode I. This fan fiction is alternate universe and takes the assumption that not all of the combat Realians died on the Woglinde. I'd also like to thank Syberia for doing grammar edits and fixing some of my various disasters. Anyway enjoy!

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"You did what, Miyuki?" snarled the fiery-haired Realian as he stood over the busy brunette, "You do know I have better things to worry about, right?" She averted her eyes from her latest invention to meet Canaan's gaze.

"I know that," she giggled. "But you really do need to loosen up and have fun with other Realians."

Who could they be? Where were they going? And what in heaven's name was Miyuki trying to pull?

"Who are they, Miyuki?" Canaan's face was as serious as ever. You'd think the Zohar were involved. "Tell me now."

Miyuki smiled at him, "Just a few combat models that are stationed here. They looked like they needed a fresh face. And you're pretty glum too lately, you know!" she teased.

Canaan didn't appreciate that comment. He was always a little glum. How would such a pointless meeting change a thing?

"If you don't come, I'm siccing Doctus on you!"

---

Canaan, wanting to avoid further hounding from Doctus, came to the café mentioned in Miyuki's memo.

_Well, no Realians here. _he thought as he scanned the restaurant. Just as he walked out the door, low and behold, none other than a standard combat Realian waltzed through the glass entrance. And poor Canaan thought he got off this time.

The blond soldier approached, "Hello. Are you Canaan?" he blinked, seemingly taken aback by Canaan's distinguishing appearance, "A girl named Miyuki sent me here."

"Ohh, really?" Sarcasm, "Yeah, that'd be me. But weren't you supposed to have friends with you or something?" Canaan felt slightly awkward being alone with the boy… but he was stuck now.

"Well, Alyssa is being tuned, and Adrian had to meet with the Sargeant, so no, it's just me." The less-advanced Realian was still all-too-capable of feeling the tension.

"You guys come with names now, huh? So, what's yours?" Canaan extended a gloved hand.

"I'm Alex, sir." Alex made his hand meet Canaan's firm grip. He probably shook much longer than necessary, though he didn't quite understand why. Canaan broke the tie and made his way to a nearby table.

"So, Alex… if your friends are no-shows, why did you even bother coming? You don't have to listen to everyone, you know. " Canaan asked, as if he were trying to test the boy.

"Ahh, well, you see, sir…"

"Don't call me 'sir'."

"Sorry. Well, I really didn't have much else to do." Alex poked his two pointer fingers together and gave an honest smile as he searched for words. "And plus…I really wanted to meet you!" The blond Realian shyly admitted.

The first part of that description Canaan well-expected. The second was where he had lost him.

"Why on Lost Jerusalem would you want to meet me?"

Alex sighed and looked up at the fiery-haired man. The combat model was lost for words. After a few awkward moments and one clueless gaze, he replied, "Well, sir, in all honesty, you're the advanced-memory model. You have gotten to do and see so many things that we combat models only dream of. That is, if we're permitted to dream."

Canaan looked pityingly at Alex, knowing all too well how some people treated his kind.

"It's okay, though! You don't have to look at me that way. I love my job!" Alex flashed another honest smile. Canaan smiled back this time, an odd mixture of charm and fluster quickly ran through his body, only for him to swiftly revert back to his shell.

"Heh, it's not like mine is fabulous, you know. I've had my fair share of tragedies. Anyway, where are you from and why are you here?"

"Well," he began, "I was stationed on the Woglinde until it was destroyed. The Federation reassigned all surviving Realians, and I ended up here, on the Dammerung."

"The Woglinde, huh? I have a few acquaintances who were on that ship. Must have been rough. You've got my respect." Canaan rose from his café seat and cocked his head at a curious angle, "Hey, you want anything? I'm not much for coffee myself, but I think I'll get some for the occasion."

Alex finally welcomed himself to Canaan's table and nodded his head, "I suppose if you're getting some…"

"What kind?"

"I'm not sure. Whatever you're having…"

--

Black. The coffee was black. Black like Canaan liked it, and black like the nighttime sky.

It had been hours. The two continually chattered and connected- although Canaan was never much for that sort of thing.

The topics ranged from anything to their past and their friends to weapons and piloting an E.S. To Canaan's' surprise, Alex had his fair share of interesting tales.

Back on the Woglinde, there was a female model infatuated with one of the Vector employees. His boss was a DME addict. He was also familiar with Shion- she used to adjust he and his colleagues and tell them how the KOS-MOS project was progressing.

Canaan mainly listened, giving his input from time to time- he preferred to keep his past inside. Alex just seemed pleased someone was listening to him. From what Canaan could gather, Alex was a simple man, hardly different from other combat units, but yet he was, in some simplistic way.

It was an odd phenomenon. An honest kind of strange. Here, Canaan, the enhanced-memory unit, who had been alive for many years, participated in the Miltian Conflict, rescued bioweapons, had part of the Y-Data thrown upon him, and fought countless battles, had just spent at least two hours talking to a regular combat model, and enjoyed it to boot.

Unfortunately for the two, the lights were dimming, and their meeting grounds along with it. They rose from their seats, glanced at one another, and shared an uncomprehendable, inhuman moment that neither of them understood.

"Well, that was…fun." Canaan reluctantly admitted. "But I suppose it's getting late."

"Yeah, it is…" Alex sighed. The thought of Canaan leaving saddened him. He hadn't talked to someone who genuinely listened in what seemed like forever. But there was something else about this man, something intriguing. Something that sent him a little bit aflutter- if only at certain moments. But most importantly, there was a need. He didn't know what that need was- a need for him to stay longer, perhaps? Possibly a need see him smile too? These were all things his combat model brain were never taught- built- to deal with, to feel. But maybe just maybe he needed to feel more. He wondered weather Canaan felt whatever connection there was also. That was what he needed!- He needed to find out.

"Hey Canaan!" He called, flashing the most honest smile of them all.

Canaan turned to him. "Yeah? What is it?"

But there was no verbal reply; just a swift, yet long-lasting embrace.

Canaan didn't know what to say. It was awkward. It was nice. It was against his nature. Yet, in a way, it was everything in it. It was a _release_. For a small moment, Canaan allowed himself to _feel. _But what had he felt? Friendship? _Something more_?

After the moment passed they said their swift goodbyes. Alex wondered weather he would ever see the striking, fiery memory unit again. Deep down, he hoped he would. Canaan was still perplexed as to what Alex's gesture had truly meant and what, if anything, would be made of it.

As they exited through the glass door and parted ways, Canaan's blank face was red, yet subtle. Alex's was slightly less embarrassed as Canaan was, yet just as confused. But it felt good to him. And Miyuki's plan, to put it quite simply, went off without a hitch.


End file.
